Feminist Art as Evolution: Movement, Identity, and Legacy

The Origins of Feminist Art and Its Civil Rights Context

Feminist art as a named movement evolved in the context of the late 1960s and early 1970s political climate. The movement cannot be contextually separated from larger civil rights movements — and specifically those relating to women — such as the sexual revolution, the women's liberation movement, and the formation and growth of groups like the National Organization for Women. Strictly speaking, there can be no real separation of the feminist art movement from the civil rights movements of its era, because so much of the art of the period acted as the voice and vision of those movements as a whole. Though there are of course exceptions, art as a whole during this period served as a demonstrative agent for social change.

This essay analyzes both feminist art and its contextual school of thought during the civil rights era. It addresses the discrimination and degradation that women artists have faced at the hands of the high-brow art world, and dissects the debate between "feminist" art as essentially feminine versus art by women being treated as equivalent — neither more nor less — to art by men. As a point of departure for these issues, a number of works associated with the feminist art movement are analyzed, along with the political impact of each artist: Carolee Schneemann, Cindy Sherman, Mimi Smith, Ana Mendieta, and Judy Chicago.

Women artists who have been brave enough to produce their work have been shown the cold shoulder by the art world since public recognition of art truly began. The recognition of genius in high art has been evident since antiquity, but with few exceptions, direct identification of a woman as that genius was rarely granted. One of the first exceptions is Artemisia Gentileschi (1590–1642), a genius who surpassed even her famous father, yet was truly only given name recognition because she was the daughter of an already-recognized artist — even though her imagery was, and remains, so powerful that it represents the epitome of the strong feminine ideal of her age. The degradation and discrimination of women in the fine arts has since become an institution of its own.

Discrimination Against Women Artists: Historical and Contemporary Evidence

In a compilation of interviews with fifteen contemporary female artists, several questions and answers address the discrimination they felt throughout their careers. Two artists in particular express their experiences pointedly when asked, "As a female artist, have you ever experienced discrimination from the art world?"

Julie Lamoe: "When I graduated from art school in 1965, male instructors were still asking women students why they were painting and not getting pregnant."

Lil Picard: "I had the experience twice of being refused as an artist by galleries — once in New York and once in Düsseldorf — and told bluntly, 'We don't take on women.'"

Cindy Sherman, the recognized feminist artist known for black-and-white still photography, created untitled self-portraits representing a series of fundamental and varied archetypal images. In The Power of Feminist Art, Sherman's 1979 untitled photograph — depicting herself as a low-income housewife of the 1950s — is deeply unsettling. Yet it is not quite as unsettling as another self-image: an untitled photograph from 1985, reproduced in The Pink Glass Swan, in which she appears as an archetypal and timeless witch. The source of fascination with Sherman's work lies in her uncanny ability to represent herself as everything a woman can stereotypically be, encompassing the full range of emotions each such role might realistically carry.

Key Works of the Feminist Art Movement

Ana Mendieta produced an unsettling photographic image of the silhouette of a female figure — legs together, arms raised in a gesture of caution toward the viewer. What makes the photograph so unsettling is that it depicts a scene painted in rock on the ground, one that strongly resembles a burial mound in the desert. The eternal silence of this nameless, faceless woman gives voice to the idea that women are not flat images, and that their silence does not serve their cause.

Stepping away from the image of a woman trapped in stone, Mimi Smith's Steel Wool Peignoir (1966) is similarly a depiction of the trappings of femininity. At first glance, the composite piece of steel wool, nylon, and lace appears to represent a soft feminine article of clothing evoking subtle feminine sexuality — possibly resembling a medieval gown. Yet upon closer inspection, the trap of the steel and the knowledge of what the garment is fashioned from make clear that it is meant to represent a trap in disguise: the trap of subtle or repressed sexuality. Covered from head to toe in lace and steel, a woman inside this composite would be trapped and uncomfortable regardless of her soft outward appearance.

The iconic image of Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party is both a representation of the vastness of domesticity and a symbolic table set for conversation about the position of women — a table not yet occupied, but boasting a profound list of invitees. The triangular form represents the amphelos, and each ceramic plate depicts what the vulva of its corresponding woman might look like. The personality of each representation and its associated historical woman can be clearly seen in each colorful image of the place settings. Though often considered sexually explicit, it is actually a relatively tame example of Chicago's work as one of the pioneers of the feminist art movement — and particularly of that strand of the movement which openly challenges the confines of female sexuality. In her book of the same title, Chicago explains the historical foundations of the work:

"The women represented at the Dinner Party (39) table are either historical or mythological figures. I chose them for their actual accomplishments and/or their spiritual or legendary powers. I have brought these women together — invited them to dinner, so to speak — in order that we might hear what they have to say and see the range and beauty of our heritage, a heritage we have not yet had an opportunity to know." (Chicago 1979, 52)